I have to say to myself that some birds aren't very close. Their feathers are just too bright. When they fly away, you know it's a sin to lock them up, and you'll be inspired by them. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I think I really miss my friends.

The world is a beautiful book, but of little use to him who cannot read it.

The past is a shadow that follows us, always present, always influencing our steps.